


How To Be Alive

by NerdierThanYou



Series: Being Alive [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1st part in a series, F/M, Fred Weasley Lives, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Slow Burn, everyone is a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-11-11 10:06:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11146236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdierThanYou/pseuds/NerdierThanYou
Summary: (Au: Fred Survives) In a post war wizarding world, everyone is broken. Searching for some semblance of normalcy, Hermione seeks comfort in a healing Fred. But in reality, they need eachother more than they realize. A Fremione story in some ways, a story of friendship in others. My take on what would happen right after the Battle of Hogwarts, if Fred survived.





	1. Take it Day by Day

**Author's Note:**

> Characters Belong to J.K. Rowling  
> Story Belongs to me  
> Also Published on Fanfiction.net
> 
> This is an unedited version so beware of minor grammar and spelling mistakes. I am currently looking for a beta to help me out.
> 
> This is the first part of the series which revolve around the lives of everyone after the war.

 

 

 

He doesn't die instantly.

The wall collapses on him and he falls to the ground, buried. Time stops for everyone on the light side.

        Fred Weasley has been hit.

        The chaos of the war makes people forget friends, family, themselves — but Fred Weasley, they remember. Everyone feels it, the sudden disappearance of a personality that gave thousands hope in the darkest of times. And suddenly his brothers are at his side, trying to lift the stone off of him.

        "It's my fault. I distracted him," the one with the glasses is still frozen in place. He can't do anything, he can't move.

        "Help us get this bloody boulder off of him and maybe we'll forgive you," the one eared twin doesn't have time to listen to pity parties, his best mate and brother is likely dead, he just wants help.

        They try to move the debris, but between their emotional states and the uproar of the battle, the boys can't do much.

        "Protego! Stupify," The boys look to find their brother running towards them, not noticing the hundreds of curses being shot at him, a young woman runs after him, protecting the redhead from being cursed.

        She felt the absence of Fred Weasley too.

        The one-eared twin shouts desperately, "Hermione help! It's Fred, he's trapped under."

        She runs over and quickly casts a protective charm around the area, shielding the small group from the chaos around, "Move you dolts, don't you know how to levitate?"

        Ron, the one she followed over to the scene stands, "Right, I'll do it"

        But he is stopped by the girl, "No Ron, you're far too emotional to lift such a heavy object, I'll do it. You should go find Harry, I'm worried he's up to something."

        "I can't leave," Ron, red in the face bellows, "Fred's MY brother, I should be with him, Please Hermione," he begs, "I can't lose him"

        "Listen Ron, it is crowded and loud and overwhelming right now. I need to someone to leave in order to feel safe levitating this boulder off Fred. George, obviously, will not leave Fred's side, and Percy, well to be honest, the boy is a graduated and brilliant wizard, we may need him," Hermione then softens her voice, "I know you care about Fred, but right now you need to make sure that Harry doesn't go and get himself killed. He needs you. I am so sorry, I swear I'll find you as soon as I can; I just need you to go" Hermione feels dreadful as she looks at the destroyed face of Ronald Weasley. But she can't worry about him now. Now, she worries for Fred.

        Ron bolts off, defeated. Hermione briefly watches him shout curses at passing Death Eaters as he runs off in the distant rubble — she wonders if this will be the last time she'll see him.

        George's shout brings her back to the situation, "Hermione please, hurry! We're losing him!"

        She lifts her wand and whispers the well-known incantation, using all her strength to lift the heavy object. It slowly raises, she hears the one-eared twin's breath hitch — he has seen his brother. Hermione wants to look down and see him, but she has to focus on moving the boulder away from Fred. "Done," she sighs. Fred is free.

        Fred is broken. His arm completely mangled, twisted at an awkward angle. His body stretched and bent in different directions. His clothes blackened and ripped. His leg is completely flattened. But his face, his humorously beautiful face, is safe — apart from a few minor scrapes.

        "Fred! Fred! Mate you up? Come on wake up!" George shouts. Percy has collapsed on the rubble around, crying. "Hermione, please, is he alive?"

        Hermione is frozen. Her wand-bearing arm hanging defeated at her side. Her body shaking, p _lease let him be alive,_ she thinks. He has to still be alive. She comes down and kneels by his face. She places two fingers at his neck, searching for a pulse. She bends down to his ear and whispers, "Please Fred, please be alive."

        Then she feels it, softly, almost extinct, but there. He's alive.

* * *

        On Mondays his parents come shuffling in. One of them is always crying, the other comforts — it changes each time. His mother kisses him on the head and whispers quiet prayers for his return to health. His father sits and grasps his lifeless hand, squeezing tightly; he hopes that one day his son will squeeze back. They leave a four-leaf clover at his bedside each time, and walk out without looking back.

        On Tuesdays his older brothers silently fill the small hospital room. The never say anything. All of them feel guilty somehow, but the youngest of the three is the worst off. It should have been me, he thinks. They never stay for long, they just sit and hope for a miracle and when they are done, they leave, again in silence.

        On Wednesdays, visitors are not allowed. Every half hour, a healer comes in to check his vitals. One healer in particular has taken an interest in this war hero with the vibrant orange hair and caring family. The healer is old, she lost her own granddaughter in the battle, she has no one left. Instead, she cares for him. On Wednesdays she brings fresh flowers and opens the curtains to reveal the outside. She sings songs to him that her own mother sang to her and she cries for her comatose patient.

        On Thursdays his younger brother and sister come in, a young man with messy black hair and green eyes come with them. The sister either in the arms of this wizard or her redhead brother. The scarred young soldiers stare at their injured brother and friend. Ron stares down at his broken brother as Harry sets a mysterious folded piece of parchment down at his bedside.

        It is Friday, and she finally comes into the quiet hospital wing. She doesn't give him pieces of parchment or four-leaf clovers — instead she talks, "Hi Fred, Hermione here. It's been a month since you've been asleep. Four weeks, yeah it's been a while. Everyone else has been here weekly, everyone else except George. He's struggling with the idea of you not making it. Of course you will make it, I know you will, but he's a mess without you.

        She takes a breath before continuing, "I miss you. I didn't realize I would miss you as much as I do. Earlier today, I went to a meeting for 'post-war rehabilitation'. I was supposed to give a presentation about past methods muggle societies have used after big wars. The bloody Minister, Professor McGonagall, your parents, and everyone else of any importance in the Wizarding World were all there. I went up to the front of the room, and my mind just blanked. Completely. I don't know what happened, it was like everything I had prepared had been erased. Considering my reputation, it wouldn't surprise you to know that something like that has never happened to me. I feel broken Fred."

        She sits there for two hours before standing out and strutting away from the motionless body. Her pace quickens gradually until she is running down the cobbled streets of the ruined Diagon Alley. She runs even when she makes it out onto the streets of Muggle London, she runs until she can't run anymore.

        A day later, she sits on a plush chair in front of a Therapist, a squib who is aware of the wizarding war and willing to help victims of war. She doesn't want to be there, but she is afraid of herself.

        They don't talk about much. Hermione is guarded and refuses to share much information. It is a difficult hour and by the end of the session Hermione feels somewhat defeated.

        "Will I be seeing next week?"

        "No, I'm sorry. This was a mistake. I should go."

        She runs out again, then apparates to a house to meet her friends. They don't expect her, but Harry and the rest of the Weasleys welcome her. She sits in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld place and cries in the arms of her best friends. No one is prepared for her outburst. They sit there stunned, not sure what to do, or say. Harry is the first one hold her in his arms, suddenly everyone is surrounding her, hugging her — crying.

        She visits Fred everyday after that.


	2. Breathe

 

 

          She thought it would be easier. Each breath. Each intake of cold sharp air — it should have been easier. She was a war hero for Merlin's sake. She woke up one morning in a sweat, not knowing real from fake, she ran out, ready to attack. She forgot the war was over. Each night the nightmares plague her mind. So she turns to draughts that replace her need for sleep and spends her nights awake instead. She knows it's unhealthy, but she can't face the nightmares.

          Hermione tries to go to the hospital every day. So, when he opens his eyes for the first time, she will be there. He wont though, open his eyes. They remain closed, peaceful. His once vibrant self is muted in hospital whites and that strange bleach smell. She has become accustomed to seeing distraught relatives, crying in the arms of one another as they hear apparent bad news. It seems, she thinks, that everyone was ravaged by the battle. Hospitals are morbid places. She holds his limp hand some days. Those days are the bad days. The days that blur, they seem to last months. The days that are full of loud noises and bright lights. And suddenly she is running down the street in tears, lost.

          The Weasley family begin to choke Hermione with their gratitude. Each day she visits Fred, someone is there. They embrace her. They thank her. So Hermione starts to come earlier and earlier. She tries to avoid the family that she considered her own. But Molly Weasley is a mastermind. Mrs. Weasley begins to visit her son earlier and earlier as well. She tries to talk with Hermione, bond. But Hermione cannot deal anymore — so she makes a decision. She stops visiting Fred during the day. Instead, using her "hero status" she asks the head of St. Mungos if she could visit at night. And that is how she begins her nightly visits. She comes into his quiet room at midnight, a book, a blanket, and a mug of tea in her hands. She sits in the chair next to his bed and reads. On her third night, she falls asleep. The sleep is dreamless, and good. She wakes up in the morning to the healers checking Fred's vitals. It is her first full sleep since the war began. Her nighttime visits continue.

          Two months later she gets the call.

          "He's awake. He remembers what happened. Come at once"

          She runs down the street again, but this time with clear direction. Fred is awake. She stumbles in the room — it is crowded, full of all the joyful Weasleys. Fred is sitting up in his bed, propped up with pillows. His skin is pale but his eyes are open. He really is awake.

          "So I hear you saved my life," Fred's voice is croaky, probably from months of disuse. His hair is noticeably damp, probably from teary relatives embracing him.

          "Anyone would have done it," her voice is croaky, she doesn't know why, "Its good to have you back Fred."

          "Are you kidding Hermione dear, you saved his life! We owe you everything…"

          The nurse arrives, "Could I please have everyone who is not immediate family exit the room, we need to Check on Mr. Weasley's vitals."

          Hermione looks at her "family" and leaves the room. As she walks through the St. Mungos she hears the nurse wonder exasperatedly, "Wait, ALL of you are immediate family?"

          She walks down the street quickly, keeping her eyes downcast; you never know who is going to notice you. Unfortunately her hair sticks out too much, and people begin to swarm. They ask for her autograph, they ask for a picture, they ask for a clip of her hair (assuming it is for a polyjuice), and they ask questions.

"What was the war like?"

"Are you in a relationship with Ron Weasley?"

"Is Harry Potter single"

"Have you been approached for a book deal?"

"Do you need a job?"

 

Hermione could safely say that she hates being famous. More importantly, she hates the way people look at her now. She walks faster.

          Only twenty more steps left to go.

          Nineteen.

          "Hermione, wait!" Damn.

          A hand grasps her arm. Ron.

          "Hermione, you ran out of there so quickly. You could have stayed, you're basically family. And what's one more person anyway?" Ron looks at her imploringly.

          "Sorry, Ron I just really had to go. Anyway, this is your time. I should be off now," Hermione doesn't want to talk.

          "Wait," he grabs her again, "I thought that maybe we could get some coffee. Talk. You know, I miss you. And well, we never really discussed what happened in the Chamber that night," he obviously wants something.

          "Really Ron, not right now. I need to go."

          "Where? What is so important that you need to runaway from me for?"

          "Harry," Hermione looks down at her feet, she shouldn't have said that. Harry was hiding. After less than a month of facing reporters, fans, and grieving families, he ran. Harry hadn't told anyone where he was going, but Hermione knew — she understood.

          "Harry? Hermione do you know where he is?"

          Attempting to sound indifferent, "What? No, I'm… I'm," she's at a loss for words, "to be honest I'm um… researching! Yes, that's it! I'm trying to figure out where Harry is. You know how I am with my research."

          "Of course you are. Well, don't let me stop you then. We all need Harry back," He looks relieved that she cares, "I still don't understand why he left in the first place. We won! And we need him now more than anything."

          "The questions were killing him Ron. All the reminders of the war would constantly bombard him, no wonder he left," She replies.

          "Hermione, the War hurt all of us. That doesn't give him the right to run away," He wants her to understand that he's mad at Harry for leaving, he doesn't want her to know how jealous he is, "Goodbye 'Mione. Don't be a stranger." And then he's gone, running back to his celebrating family.

_Thank Merlin,_ She thinks. She shouldn't think this of course. Hermione knows that she should be dying to spend time with Ron. She should be happy to see him come, and sad to see him go. But, that's not the case. Since the war has ended, Hermione has had little time for romance. She wont tell Ron that though, not yet. There still might be hope for them, she thinks. After all, it is Ron Weasley.

* * *

 

 

Five days later, she gets a knock on her small apartment door.

          "Hermione, it's me, Fred. Ginny gave me your address, I hope that's ok. Could you let me in please? I want to talk," Hermione opens the door, confused. He looks good, she thinks, at least for a man who just got out of a coma five days ago, "Hey, so you didn't come to my welcome back party last night. We were all expecting you, Mom even baked a sort of thank you cake in your honor, you know for saving me and such. Why didn't you come?"

          "I thought you guys would want some family time, just to yourselves. Anyway, I was busy with a project I was working on."

          "What kind of project"

          "Nothing," suddenly she realized she hasn't let him in yet. She lets Fred in and they move into her dusty, dark room. She likes to pretend she likes her apartment. She should like it. It is in a prime location: muggle London, but only two blocks from the entrance to Diagon Alley. It's too dark though. The walls are dark, and the windows are small. And no matter how often she cleans, it is a magnet to dust.

          Apprehensively she glances around the room, refusing to make eye contact with Fred. She wants to apologize for the mess and offer him a cup of tea, but all she can make out is, "So is that all you wanted to come here and talk to me about?"

          "No. Hermione I wanted to talk to you. You saved my life! I've been in a coma for months. Harry is gone. _George isn't bloody funny anymore_ ," by now he is almost yelling, "he doesn't joke Hermione, why wont George joke anymore?"

          Hermione looks at the boy in front of her. He is exhausted. His body thin and ragged, his skin pale. He looks broken, she thinks. And that terrifies her. Fred is supposed to be solid. He is supposed to be gleeful and witty, full of mischief. But this boy is scared.

          "I just want some answers. Mum won't tell me anything, she keeps hovering over me like I'm a child. I know we're not really close, but I swear you're the only one that wont treat me like I'm made of glass," he looks at her expectantly.

          "Ok, but I don't really know what to say," Hermione points to the sofa and they sit down, "after you got attacked, George kind of broke down. I don't think he was used to seeing you look so… morbid. He couldn't really look at you, so he didn't visit you at the hospital. It's not that he didn't want to, I'm sure he did. It's just that, well, you looked really bad for a while and I don't think he could face it. I don't know what he did for those months while you were in the hospital, but I think it really messed him up. When you woke up, he realized that he hadn't visited you once. I think he's just guilty. You should really talk to him, he was miserable without you."

          "Wow, he really didn't visit me?"

          Her head shakes, "As for Harry… well I can't really say much. As soon as the battle ended, Kingsley became acting minister. He, and most of the order created a "post war rehabilitation" program. I was part of it for a bit. I had to give them information about muggle post war efforts. Harry, was asked to be the face of the operation. He had to do photoshoots, speeches, rallies, and press meetings. Kingsley wanted the "hero" of the war to help bring everybody together. But Harry, like all of us, was tired. People would swarm him in the street, asking for autographs and such. One lady even asked him to bless her baby, whatever that would entail. So he left, just disappeared. He wrote us a note saying that he needed time to think and then just went poof. Since then, no one has heard from him. We have absolutely no idea where he is. He wrote one letter to Ginny in the beginning, but she didn't let anyone else read it, so we have no idea what he said in it."

          Fred looks at her in disbelief, "I don't believe that for a second."

          "What do you mean? Why wouldn't you believe that Harry ran?"

          "Not that, of course I get that. No, I mean that you know where he is. You're Hermione Granger for Merlin's sake. You definitely know where he is. I don't really get why you are lying to everyone, but no matter. You know."

          She is shocked, how could he tell, "Okay, fine I know where he is. But I can't tell you, sorry. Harry needs this and I am in no place to tell everyone what he is doing."

          They look at each other in the silence. Each one hoping the other will start to speak. But Hermione doesn't know what to say. Fred gives nothing away in his eyes, he just looks at her. After minutes, he speaks, "So, did you visit me while I was asleep?"

          "Yes," Hermione is too tired to lie, "I used to visit you during the day, but your family, bless them, began to drive me crazy. They were so thankful, I mean all I did was preform a spell that any first year would do. I'm not that much of a hero," her hands are shaking, "so I decided to visit you at night."

          "At night? Isn't that not allowed?"

          "Yes, but I got special permission from the head of the hospital. They were more that happy to let me come, I am part of the Golden Trio," she smiles quietly to herself, refusing to look him in the eyes.

          "I felt you there. Not physically of course. But, I could feel that there was always someone with me, day or night. Maybe it is something to do with magical comas, but I somehow knew you were there with me at night," His voice wavers, "thanks for that. You didn't need to be there. You should have been at home, sleeping, celebrating."

          "I couldn't sleep."

          "Nightmares?"

          "Yeah. I got them while we were on the run. After the," She takes a deep breath, "after the Manor, they got worse. I thought they would be better after we won, but they've only worsened even more."

          "I got them too, during those months while you three were off doing whatever you were doing. I'm almost glad I was in a coma for those months, because I didn't have any dreams. As soon as I woke up, I've been afraid to go back to sleep."

          He seems so vulnerable, she thinks, "When you were at the hospital and I would visit you, I would sleep. For some reason, when I was there, the nightmares didn't come," she blurts out.

          He laughs nervously, "Well I'm glad my coma let you sleep peacefully"

          That hurts, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

          He cuts her off, "It was a joke Hermione. A joke. Remember it's what I do, did, do — I don't know anymore," he continues, "I'm glad you were able to sleep some without the nightmares. Are they back since I've been awake?"

          She doesn't want to tell him. It feels awkward, embarrassing even. But she has to, "Yes. It's not that bad really, I'm used to them by now. Though I am dreadfully tired all the time now, but it's nothing a good six cups of coffee wont fix."

          His eyes meet hers, trying to tell if she is joking. He isn't really sure what to say, or why she is even talking to him at all, "Well I won't take up any more of your time. I'm sure you have plenty Granger-things to do today," He stops for a moment, as if waiting for something, "I'm glad you talked to me Hermione. To be honest, I thought you would slam the door in my face or say that you didn't want to talk. I mean it's not like we were best mates before the war, why would you want to talk to me? And I am just a reminder of all the people in the war that were not as lucky as I was. I just had to try you know? I knew that if I got you to speak, you would tell the truth," suddenly he is up and walking to the door, "and now I'm babbling like a fool. Anyway, I'll see you around Granger."

          And he's gone. Before she could say goodbye, or "good to see you alive," he is gone. She goes up to the door, trying to make sense of his odd goodbye when the door opens again, "Oh by the way, I am still living above our joke-shop. In case you wanted to visit me or something. And Mum expects to see you tomorrow for dinner, she misses you, we all do"

          And he's gone again. Hermione's heart beating rapidly. Her back hits the door, as she leans for support. Why did he come, she thinks? Why did he have to come and make her feel so confused, and scared? Why did he make her confused and scared? And suddenly her vision goes blurry. Tears pouring, racing down her face. This inexplicable pain in her chest returns. Her lungs fight for air against a nonexistent force. _I must be dying,_ She thinks.

 

_I can't breathe._


	3. Family

 

 

 

            Hermione likes to think she is good at reading people. She knew when Harry had his nightmares, or when his scar would hurt. She can tell in seconds if Ron is mad. She knew that Ginny was heartbroken over Harry, despite all of Ginny's efforts to act like she wasn't bothered by his disappearance.

            But now, as she stares at Fred from across the table, she is deeply confused.

            It is morning, early. And Fred is smiling.

            "Can you please tell me what you are doing here Fred?"

            He laughs, "I'm here to kidnap you Hermione," he takes a sip of coffee, "you see, we are worried about you. All of us. Mum, Ron, Ginny, Harry's still MIA but I'm sure he'd be worried to. So I offered to take you back to the Burrow and we are going to have a lovely day together, as a family."

            She looks at him, guiltily, "But that's just it Fred. I'm not family. I'm the odd one out without Harry there as well. Anyway, I'm busy today."

            "Odd? Hermione what's gotten into you? You've always seemed to be fine to be with us. It's just one day. And please, you can put off whatever you have to do until tomorrow right? What do you have to do?"

            "I thought I'd get a job you know. I'm bored, so I was going to go out and see if there is anything I could do. In muggle London that is."

            "Why not help rebuild the Ministry or something?"

            "I don't know, I guess I just wanted to have an easy, simple job."

            He looks at her and decides to change the subject, "You'll come with me right?"

_Why is he here,_ she thinks, _Ginny could have come, Ron could have come. So why Fred?_ Fred confuses her. Since his wake from the hospital, he has continued to visit her. Sometimes he talks to her, sometimes he doesn't. Those times, he makes a cup of coffee and reads some old newspapers from the months he was in the coma. When he talks, he talks about the war, or those months Hermione spent by his side. Hermione doesn't know why he started coming in the first place, but she revels in those moments of contact. Fred is different from the others. Ron and Ginny have been close with Hermione since she was a child. But when she's with Fred, its like he is getting to know her for the first time, the new her. Because post war Hermione is different, and Ron and Ginny can't seem to grasp her change.

            "Alright, fine I'll come."

            He grins, "Brilliant. But first, more coffee."

* * *

 

            When they arrive at the Burrow, Hermione is enveloped in hugs. First Molly and Arthur, then Ginny, and last, and awkward side hug from Ron.

            "It's good to finally see you Hermione. I didn't think Fred would be able to do it," Ron takes her aside, "I wanted to go get you myself but… I didn't know if you would let me in. You have been a bit off for the past couple of months."

            She doesn't respond. How can she?

            "Listen since you're going to be here for the day, I think we should talk," he waits for her response, hopefully. But Hermione doesn't know what to say. She doesn't know how to feel.

            "Sure Ron, we can talk. But later please, Fred woke me up and wouldn't let me eat anything. I'm starved," and she smiles.

            Breakfast is an extravagant affair. Mrs. Weasley's cooking is delicious as ever — she's made cakes, and eggs, potatoes, beans, fruit, and scones. She has lemonade, hot tea, cold tea, coffee, and pumpkin juice. Everyone sits at the long table, squeezing in. Hermione is stuck shoulder to shoulder, in between Ginny and Fred. They all pass around the plates of food. And Everyone seems happy. The guilt in Georges eyes has temporarily been lifted. Ginny's laugh is genuine. And Ron isn't drinking. It almost seems like it was before the war.

            Fred keeps looking at her, smiling. He can't help but smile. Everyone is there, all his family. And he is happy.

           But then someone makes a mistake.

            "Remember when Tonks did her duck impression and we all choked on the Christmas ham?"

            And people are silent. All you can hear is the awkward cling of cutlery hitting the plates.

            "I need a drink," Ron gets up and leaves. Hermione finds herself making her way to the kitchen, following him. At first he doesn't notice her, to wrapped up with searching for the firewhisky, likely hidden by Mrs. Weasley. But when he does, his lips form a forced grin, "so now you want to talk? Really Hermione?"

            She doesn't know how to respond, "I don't know Ron, it seemed like a good time as any. What did you want to say."

            An exasperated laugh escapes into the air, "Shit Hermione, it wasn't supposed to be like this. It was going to a brilliantly lighthearted time. I was going to take you up to the hill where we play quidditch," He sighs, "It was going to be perfect. I wanted to do something amazing for you, after all we've been through to get to here."

            Hermione has to say something, "I'm just not ready Ron. I don't feel the same anymore. Everything is different."

            "How is it different? We're still the same people. What's the point delaying the inevitable."

            That does it.

            "The inevitable!? The _Inevitable_ Ronald?! Really? Is that how you think of it? That you and I are just supposed to end up together, whether we like each other or not? That isn't right Ron. I don't care that everyone thinks we're soulmates, destined to finally get over ourselves and shack up!"

            "No, that's not what I mean…"

            "Then what did you mean? Ron I'm sick of us. Our fights us running in circles around each other, never liking each other at the right time. It keeps happening! I love you, but I get the feeling there is some force that doesn't want us to be together."

            He responds, "It's not a magical force drives us apart, it's you Hermione. It's always you. Running away, scared to get the least bit passionate about a person. As if a relationship could impede your precious knowledge! Hell I don't even understand why you're a Gryffindor because you're a bloody coward."

            "Me ruin our chances?! Me!? Lavender Brown ring any bells Ron? What about you walking out on Harry and I? Being convinced that Crookshanks ate your bloody rat, I wish she did because he was a deatheater Ronald! We can't forget about how miserable you made me feel when I first got to Hogwarts! I have done nothing but help you Ron. How many times have I done your homework for you so that you could play chess or quidditch? Speaking of quidditch, you would have never even been on the team if it hadn't been for me! So you can whine as much as you want about us being together, but _don't you dare_ say it was my fault," and she storms away.

            She tries to walk quickly, and hopes that she walks quietly. She is acutely aware of each step she takes through the house echo in the lack of conversation. And she knows, undoubtably, that every word uttered between her and Ron was heard by everyone.

            "Hermione wait up!"

            "Not now Ginny," she walks faster

            "Hermione, dear! come back!"

            She continues to walk out the door.

            "Wait Hermione!"

            "Nope, Fred. Not today," and she apparates away.

 

            She gets home, slamming the door and collapsing on that worn out sofa. She knows that she should have thanked Mrs. Weasley. She knows she should have apologized to the family for her harsh words to Ron. But, her she is, sitting on her couch wondering why she is so good at hurting people.

            And her hands are shaking. _Stupid Hermione,_ she thinks.

            But then, he's at her door again. Knocking.

            "Fred I don't want to talk."

            He is still standing outside, hands in is pockets, "Not even a hello Hermione," he continues, "I just wanted to see if you were alright."

            "Thanks.."

            "So are you? Alright, I mean. It was pretty rough out there"

            She gives in, "Well, I'm not great Fred. I'm not great," she takes a breath, "Were your parents mad? Was Ron ok?"

            "Yeah Ron was a bit worked up, then he got right pissed and is now asleep. Mum and dad were fine, worried about you. I would even say they were a bit mad at Ron."

            "Really?"

            "Oh definitely, it was ludicrous for Ron to say what he said. It was rude and uncalled for," he seems nervous, "You shouldn't have left."

            "Thanks Fred."

            They stare at each other for a moment longer, "So are you going to look for a job for the rest of the day?"

            "Maybe.."

            "Could I help then? I could join you, make you laugh. Make sure you don't get some ridiculous job like a coffee shop cleaning lady. Then maybe we could go to the jokeshop? I've been wanting to show you a new product I've been working on. So what do you think? Up for an adventure around London?"

            Hermione likes the way Fred makes her feel. He is easy to talk to. And he makes her feel happy, less responsible, more carefree. It's nice. He's nice.

            "I don't know Fred. I kind of feel emotionally exhausted right now. I don't really feel as though I'd be able to prove that I'm the right stuff for any kind of job."

            He seems disappointed almost, "Oh, well that's fine. We can do it another day of course. I guess I'll see you around, bye Hermione," and he walks away.

            And suddenly Hermione wants to stop him. She wants to grab him by the hand and take him inside with her, inside the safety of her home, with him. Because even though she is afraid to say it, Fred is family.

            "Fred, no! Come back!"

            He runs back quickly, as if he was waiting for her to say something, "Yes?"

            They look at each other, understanding. Both, so broken, so in need of company, "Why don't you come inside?"

 

            And he does. She lets him in quietly and the door closes behind him.


	4. Symbiotic

 

 

 

            "Hermione, what are you doing here?"

            She looks at him, "I want you to come back, even if it is just for a day."

            "Why Hermione? I'm busy."

            Their eyes meet, and she crouches down to sit next to him on the floor, "Harry you need to come back and explain. I understand why you left, you know I do… It's just that we all miss you, and you don't need to stay or anything, just come back to explain why you left."

            Harry sighs. It has been months since he has seen the people he loves. He misses Ron, and the twins, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and he especially misses Ginny. But he can't come back, not yet, "I'm not done Hermione. You know this. Look, the house is almost finished, and as soon as I'm done, I will come back."

            Hermione looks around the empty house, the Potter Cottage, she thinks, looks much better. A year ago, she had visited the infamous Godric's Hollow with Harry. She had seen the destroyed house, and had held Harry when he spoke of his broken family home. Apparently, the destroyed home was left in Harry's name when his parents died, set to be his when he came of age. When the war was won, and Voldemort was killed, the dark magic that seemed to exude from the house was lifted. Harry spent the first months after the war trying to fix the wizarding world, but slowly he began to break down. And that's when a goblin sent him a letter, with the deed to his family home. And suddenly Harry knew what to do.

            So, he left. Disappeared without telling a soul. But, Hermione knew Harry. And she knew that of all the places Harry would go, his childhood home would make sense. She found him five days later lying on the ground of the ruined house, passed out. She didn't know if it was from not eating, or from the empty bottles of firewhisky lying around the floor, but she knew she had to help him. So, she brought some food from the market down the street and woke up the boy who lived.

            After Harry had sobered up and had his fill of food and drink, he made her swear not to tell anyone where he was. He wanted to clean up the house, rebuild it; give some light to the place where he lost his family. And he wanted to do it alone. He was tired of everybody helping him constantly, he wanted to do one thing by himself. Hermione agreed and taught him some basic spells used to fix walls and patch up roofs. She was on her way the next day.

            "The place looks great by the way," Hermione says, trying to ease the tension, "Your parents would be proud."

            He laughs, "A couple of weeks ago I found his, my father's, wand. It was broken of course, but I could still feel its magic. After all these years, it was like the wand was waiting for me. But that is crazy, right?"

            Hermione realizes that Harry is still broken, "No Harry, not crazy."

            They sit down on the brand-new hardwood floors and just sit there for a couple minutes before Harry speaks again, "How is everyone? Ron? Are you two together?"

            "No," she takes a breath before continuing, "I messed things up between us, Harry. He wanted to talk, wanted to try dating or something. But I didn't want to, so I yelled at him. Like really yelled Harry. I was cruel and heartless, and I said it all right in front of the entire family. It was horrible."

            "Sounds just splendid. What about Fred, is he okay now that he is awake?"

            Hermione thinks about this, "Okay isn't exactly the word I would use. Harry, Fred was basically dead. He didn't get those extra months that we did to rebuild our lives. He's not great. Last week we were walking around muggle London and there was some construction going on, they were tearing down some building I guess. He heard the building falling down, and completely freaked out. I had to apparate him back to my place, and stay with him for hours until he came back to the present. It was terrifying."

            "Merlin that's awful," Harry wants to say something, "Please don't kill me for this. But, well, it's not really your job to keep saving Fred. Obviously I'm glad you are, but shouldn't you be trying to make sure you are getting better rather than worrying about him."

She shakes her head, "You don't understand, Harry. Fred is helping me too," a forced laugh escapes, "We have a sort of symbiotic relationship. I help him, he helps me. In all honesty we're equally fucked up, we might as well help each other out every once in a while."

            Harry thinks about this for a moment, smiling to himself. He wont tell Hermione what he thinks.

            Hermione continues, "I forgot to mention; I can't really sleep anymore either… so that's fun."

            "That sucks. This sucks," they both break into broken laughter, "Merlin Hermione, what happened to us?"

            "War Harry. War"

 

            They sit there like this for hours, just staring at Harry's almost perfected home. When night falls, Harry shifts and he slowly rises, "I should go back, shouldn't I?"

            Hermione nods, but Harry continues, "It's not that I don't want to, of course I do. I'm just afraid of what they'll say to me when I come back. If I come back."

            "They'll forgive you," Hermione knows this to be true, "Harry I don't think you understand. You are not the only one who is thoroughly messed up after all of this. You're not the only one who wants to run away."

            He takes a breath, "Okay, I'll come."

            Hermione sends a letter to Mrs. Weasley, asking if everybody could meet at the Burrow. And she and Harry pack his bag and get ready to leave, "You'll be back though, right?"

            Harry nods, "Yeah. I like this town, and this house. I don't know whether I'll live here or Grimmauld place in the future, but I like these options."

            And they apparate away.

* * *

            Mrs. Weasley gets the letter and makes sure all her children are at the Burrow. Fred and George, are whispering between another, finally talking.

            "Why the hell does Hermione what us here," Ron is angry, "She shouldn't force us to come gather around. I was busy."

            "Oh, stuff it Ron," Fred anxiously awaits Hermione's arrival, "It's probably something important. Haven't you gotten over that little fight? It was nearly a month ago. Get over yourself."

            "Just because I forgave her for what she said, doesn't mean I'm not annoyed that she gets to force us meet with her whenever she pleases."

            Mrs. Weasley walks in, "Will you two be quiet, Hermione will be here any minute."

            George looks around at his family, "I wonder what she wants," he stops for a moment, pretending to think, "Maybe she's knocked up!"

            Ron guffaws, "Hermione? Pregnant? Ha! George, I think that's the first joke you made in months"

            Before Fred can hit Ron and George over the head, Hermione walks in. Harry following her.

            "Hey Hermione! George just had a novel idea, you're not magically pr…," he sees Harry, "Shit! Harry! You're back."

            And suddenly everyone swarms the two new arrivals. Everyone except for the young redheaded woman, who runs away. Ginny doesn't want to see Harry, she worries what he will say.

            Harry shifts uncomfortably under the pressure of the family. He isn't used to the so many people. His eyes dart around looking for some semblance of safety.

            Hermione coughs, catching the joyful Weasley's attention, "Yes, everybody, Harry is back. Why don't we give him a break? I think there is someone he should probably talk to."

            Harry looks back at her, thanking her with his eyes, "Do you guys know where Ginny is?"

            "Probably outside, I saw her run out."

 

            And so, he runs out, following the girl whose heart he broke. Leaving Hermione surrounded by a group of surprised redheads.

            Ron decides to speak up, breaking the awkward silence, "so Harry's back! Thanks Hermione, glad you found him," he awkwardly pats her on the shoulder and walks away, back up to his room.

            The rest of the Weasley's slowly walk away, leaving Hermione to collapse of the sofa next to Fred.

            "I knew it," he looks at her, "You knew where he was," he pauses, "So are you going to tell me where he was this whole time?"

            She shakes her head, "Sorry Fred, can't. It's not my secret to tell."

            They sit like this on the patched-up couch for a few minutes before Fred speaks, "I went to St. Mungo's yesterday."

            She perks up, "Really? Why?"

            "Just a routine, post-trauma checkup. It was fine. The nurse told me I was perfect," he smiles, "but I already knew that of course."

            "Of course," she laughs, "I'm glad you're joking. I missed the old Fred."

            "Not only am I joking, but George was joking too," he breathes, "Well kind of."

            They stay like that for what seems like hours, talking. They ignore what is going on around them. Mrs. Weasley making lunch for her finally whole again family. George, joking with Percy. Ron deciding that it him and Hermione don't make the best couple. Harry talking with Ginny, explaining how broken he's been, and why he left.

            Ron comes downstairs every occasionally, looking for food. He looks at Fred and Hermione, laughing, heads together, sharing some secret, and he doesn't frown or ball his fists. Instead he goes into the kitchen and asks his mother if he can help with lunch.

            But Fred and Hermione don't notice any of it.

            "The joke shop is booming again. I think it's because everybody need some joy and humor in their lives now."

            "I know, I came by there yesterday looking for you. It was so packed, I decided to go"

            "You were there yesterday? How come I didn't see you?"

            "I don't know, Fred. It was pretty busy in there."

            He smiles, regret hidden in his eyes, "Why did you want to talk to me? I wish I could have seen you."

            "I wanted to thank you. Fred, you have been so bloody wonderful to me since you woke up. Treating me like a normal human being, not like some untouchable hero," Hermione wants to say so much to Fred, she wants to thank him for being there, but instead Fred speaks.

            "Hermione, it's nothing. I should be thanking you. Not just for saving my life, but for helping me through these past months without going too crazy."

            "I guess we've both helped each other."

            "Yeah, I guess."

            As they talk, Ron walks by them one last time _. They're closer than they were before_ , he thinks. Much closer. Ron doesn't know what to think about this new development. He's not surprised, he may not even realize the weight of the conversation that is going on between his friend and brother. But, he doesn't mind. Not really. So he decides to go upstairs and write an letter to a particular dreamy friend. He's sure Luna will know what's going on.


	5. It All Comes Down to the Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Fremione Action Actually Happens

            Hermione loves books. It’s almost silly how much she enjoys running her hands down the spine of a classic. She can’t decide whether she loves the old-book-smell more than the new book smell, and decides that they are both amazing for many reasons.

 

            Old books hold memories. Summer days in the south of France, the day she had her first burst of magic, winter nights in her childhood bedroom. Her favorite book worn and tattered, but still holding so much warmth.

 

            New books hold future dreams. New ideas. Thoughts and stories she hadn’t read before. The pages untouched, the words unmarked, the spine not worn: brand new and shiny instead. Hermione is reading one now, a Muggle novel. Written in the last few years, giving a fantastical explanation to all the “mysterious weather” and “strange sightings” that the muggle world had faced recently. Hermione new what had really been going on, the war. She had known that some of it would seep into the muggle world, and not all of it could be fixed with memory charms. So, she isn’t surprised when a young novelist comes up with a startlingly accurate tale to explain the “unexplainable events”, it’s what humans do after all; try to make sense of an ever confusing, ever mystifying world.

 

            The book is medium-length, and the author’s first attempt at fiction. Hermione can sense that immediately. But, it’s well written to an extent, and the story intrigues her. Suddenly she’s been reading all morning. For three hours, she had sat, curled up in the corner of her sofa, and her legs tingled at the thought of stretching. Hermione wants to continue with her story, but the nagging voice in the back of her head seems tells her that _healthy people walk, and happy people go outside._

 

            And Hermione is determined to be happy.

 

            “Oh! Hi Ron,” Ron is at her door, arm raised as if about to knock, but Hermione opens the door before he has the chance.

 

            “Hey Hermione. Uh… were you going somewhere?”

 

            “No… Well yes, just on a walk but I don’t need to,” there is a question hanging in the air as Hermione looks expectantly at the redhead, “did you need something?”

 

            “Yeah, could I come in?” He comes in and sits on Hermione’s ratty couch before standing up, and sitting down again. His awkward dance of what to do with his body becoming increasingly more noticeable to Hermione.

 

            “You can sit down Ron,” he does, a breath of relief following, “So what do you want to discuss? I’m assuming you want to discuss something important, because you’re not usually this awkward, that’s me or Harry, not you. So, it must be something really hard for you to say to me, because if it was anything else you wouldn’t be nervous. Which means it’s likely something bad, because usually hard things are bad. And now I’m worried. And rambling, because I ramble when I’m worried. So, could you spit it out?’

 

            “Are you dating Fred?” His pained expression makes it clear that has been stressing over this conversation.

 

            Hermione sees no reason to lie, though her confusion is evident, “no?”

 

            “You sure,” Ron distressed face relaxes only slightly, “It’s only that you guys are together every minute and usually than means something is going on. I’m not angry if you are, I just want to know if that is why you didn’t want to get together with me…”

 

            The words seem to fade out as Ron’s real intentions are revealed. Hermione is stunned. Not about the Fred part, for the past months she has gotten accustomed to denying dating rumors involving her and the “fully-eared” part of the Weasley twins, but it’s Ron’s self-doubt that surprises her.

           

              “No Ron, Fred was not the reason we didn’t work,” relief floods Ron’s face and Hermione remembers the first-year Ron, the 6th brother, never to be good enough as his older brothers, never as funny as the twins, never as special as the younger, only sister.

 

            “Can I ask… Was there ever a chance for us? Because, everything that happened to us when we were searching for horcuxes, and then when we kissed in the Chamber, I thought we had a chance.”

 

            “Ron, I spent nearly ALL my years of Hogwarts being in love with you. I denied it when you were horrible to me, and when you were nice to me, it gave me so much hope that we were meant to be. But then I was tortured and the battle happened, and when I kissed you in the Chamber, I thought it would fix me if I had my relationship with you all figured out. And I really thought we would be together. But then the war was over and I was tired. I didn’t have the energy to begin a new relationship, you must understand that. Then, by the time I started feeling some sense of normalcy come back into my life, I realized that I didn’t want a relationship. And now, well, I guess you’d say that I’m over you,” she looks at him almost guiltily, she knows she shouldn’t feel guilty about not wanting to date him, but she is, “We had so much unresolved tension. We were always fighting, and I mistook that for passion. I can’t really explain how I know Ron, but I know that even if we had gotten together, it wouldn’t be the relationship we’ve both dreamed about. Nothing would beat our own fantasies.”

 

            “Oh… ok”

 

            They both look at each other neither sure what to do. The seconds seem to draw out until the awkwardness fades and Hermione rushes into a hug. It’s shock that makes Ron hesitate in returning the display of affection.

 

            Hermione missed the warm feel of the larger Weasley. She feels their hearts beat together and wonders for a moment if, perhaps she is wrong about Ron, But the lingering doubt fades when he pulls away, embarrassed at her sudden hug, Hermione feels the urge to explain, “Sorry, I guess I Just missed hugging you.”

 

            “That’s fine Hermione. I missed you.”

 

            “So, are we ok?”

 

            “Yeah of course we are… But I have to ask, are you sure you’re not dating Fred.”

 

            “He helps me Ron. He helps me feel ok, normal. And I like to think that I help him a bit as well. But no, like I said, I’m not ready for a relationship right now, and that includes one with Fred.”

 

            “I get that ‘Mione, you are still recovering from the war. But, you and Fred go out all the time. You have dinner, go do muggle date things, spend the night at his flat when you cannot sleep. That sounds to me like dating.”

 

               Hermione doesn’t have anything to say. Not because she doesn’t know how to respond, but because he’s right. She and Fred are basically dating. She remembers a conversation that had happened between them a day before,

 

_“Right, so why do muggles make movies about the wars they are in? I get why they’d do a movie about magic, because they don’t have it, so pretending to have it is close enough. But war? Really? Why make people relive it? Why show children why and how their grandparents and parents they died,” Fred has a point, but Hermione also knows the answer._

_“It’s a warning, so people know how horrible wars are and so hopefully they know not to get in another one.”_

_“Does it work?”_

_Hermione lets out one of her rarer laughs, “No Fred, not really.”_

 

_They continue walking out of the theater on to a crowded muggle street. Happy in the silence, but also slightly sad from the film they had just sat through._

_“You know Fred, you don’t have to come to these movies with me if you don’t like them.”_

_He stops and faces her, “Sorry Hermione, not an option. I will come see any movie with you and go to any weird muggle drama or museum. That’s just how it’s going to be from now on. If you need someone to accompany you anywhere, you can count on your favorite Weasley”_

 

             So maybe there was something to what Ron was saying.

 

             “Uh Hermione, you ok? You spaced out for a moment there?” Ron looks at her for a moment, a worried expression painted on his face.

 

              “Oh yes, of course Ron. Absolutely ok, I was just thinking about something.”

 

               “Right so, I’m off to the Leaky Cauldron to meet up with some mates, if you want to come join us?”

 

               “No Ron that’s fine, I’m not really much of a drinker.”

 

                “Alright then, bye.”

 

                He gets up and makes his way to the door, glancing back for a moment before walking outside.

 

                A few hours later, Hermione finds herself facing Fred as she teaches him a muggle game of cards. She notices, as his stares intently at his cards, the way his brows furrow in concentration. The way his mouth turns up in a smile when he realizes he’s doing well, despite his best efforts to maintain a serious look about him. How he always subconsciously scratches his ear as his tell, as if he’s feeling the loss of ear that George feels. He has more freckles than Ron. His hair is longer too, and unbrushed. She notices the bags under his eyes and thinks that lately, they have been getting more faint. She sees the small scar on his neck, and the hundreds of scars on his hands. She reckons both the war and his reckless job are at fault. She notices the unmistakable glint in his eyes when he looks at he, and she realizes, while blushing, that she has been staring.

 

“You’re looking at me funny.”

 

“No, I’m not.”

 

“Yes, you are! You are analyzing me! And then you blushed! What’s going on?”

 

“Nothing, I was just observing you,” he gives her a funny look but says nothing, “You know you have a cluster of freckles on your neck that look like a smiley face?”

 

“Yeah. George doesn’t have it, so as a kid, it was always proof that I was the funnier twin. Because I was literally marked with the gift of making people smile, and poor old George-y wasn’t. Mum never noticed though, which is funny because it definitely would have helped her with telling us apart.”

 

“True.” She continues to stare at him, the card game forgotten. But now he’s looking at her too.

 

“So, are we switching the card game for the staring game, or…?”

 

Hermione blushes and looks back at her cards, “Oh! No I mean we can play or n-….”

 

He cuts her off, “Because while the cards were fun, I definitely don’t mind the other game, looking at you that is,” and he smiles, a hint of cheek in his blue eyes.

 

“Were you just flirting with me Fred Weasley?”

 

            “Well I was trying to. It didn’t really work. Which is odd considering I’m ‘Smooth Talker Extraordinaire’. But hey, I almost died, I haven’t exactly had time for working on my game”

 

            She laughs, “I’ll forgive you for your ‘mediocre’ flirting skills. But I’ll be honest, I was actually quite impressed.”

 

            “Really? At that? Then you are going to die when I flirt with you for real”

 

            “I’m looking forward to it.”

 

            And then they are playing cards again. And Hermione is winning, for she knows the game. Fred isn’t bad however. But his constant joking and messing around create a rather chaotic game. His spirits are high, and his smile is wide. He hasn’t felt this good in a long time. Soon the game is axed and they are just sitting on the floor of her apartment laughing and talking.

 

            “Where does George think you go when you come hang out with me?”

 

            “Oh, he knows I’m with you. But he doesn’t really notice that much of anything regarding me at the moment. He’s thrown ALL of his energy into the shop lately, and when he is not working, he is hanging out with Angelina.”

 

            “Angelina? Really? I thought you two dated in school?” She’s not sure she wants to start bringing up dating and girlfriends, but she is curious.

 

            “Eh, a bit. We went to the Yule ball together and we spent some time with each other after that but it didn’t last long. It was weird being into the same girl as your twin brother, and I felt guilty that I had asked her out first. I was also a sixteen-year-old so no one really held my focus for very long.”

 

            She laughs nervously and attempts to change the subject, this one reminding her of Ron’s words from earlier that day, “Have you been to the Burrow recently?”

 

            “Yeah why?”

 

            “I was there a few days ago and I was looking around all the rooms and I noticed that all your stuff was in you and George’s old room. But George’s half of the room is all empty. Did you move your stuff back in the Burrow?”

 

            He glances down, suddenly serious, “Yeah I did”

 

            “Why”

 

            “I haven’t moved out of my apartment. I’m still living there, but I was tired of all my stuff. So, I brought them back to the Burrow and I’ve just been buying what I need brand new.”

 

            “Like a restart?”

 

            “I guess. Yes, a restart. I don’t feel like pre-war, pre-spell induced coma me is the same as now me. So, I’m getting new stuff.”

 

            “But why not throw away all your old things? Why keep them?”

 

            “I don’t know, memories I guess. Plus, Mum likes seeing my room all furnished with my clothes hanging. I think it’s a constant reminder for her that I am alive and well.”

 

            “Poor Molly, she almost lost you.”

 

            “Yeah but she didn’t. She didn’t lose any of us. We were lucky, so lucky.”

 

            “It was still hard. For her to see you like that. It was hard for me, and I’m not your mother.”

 

            He looks at her funnily, “I never asked, why was it so hard for you? It’s not like we were super close then or anything.”

 

            “True. Honestly Fred, I don’t know why. When I was with you, I felt calmer. And you were in a coma so I knew that no matter what, you wouldn’t treat me like a hero or a victim. And I don’t know,” she sighs with exasperation, “I really don’t know why it was so hard for me.”

 

            “That’s ok, you don’t have to know. I was just wondering.”

 

            “Sorry.”

 

            “Don’t apologize, you did nothing wrong.”

 

            “Right, sor-… I mean, not sorry”

 

            He laughs, “Is there some sort of disease for people who apologize for anything and everything?”

 

            “Anxiety? Politeness? A perpetual fear of being disliked?”

 

            His smile fades, “That was meant as a joke Hermione”

 

            “I know. I was joking too! Self-deprecating humor”

 

            He shakes his head, “I think we’re going to have to do something about your sense of humor Hermione,” throughout their exchange Fred had inched closer to Hermione, until their legs and shoulders touched. He leaned into her in a friendly manner, “Soo, what did you do today?”

 

            “Read. Read. Read. Talk to Ron. Read. Read. Talk to you,” as she says it, Hermione realizes how painfully boring she must sound.

 

            “Books and Redheads? Sounds like a party,” he’s shaking his head, as if he expected nothing less, “What were you talking to Ron about? I thought you had a sort of falling out?”

 

            “We did. But he came over today wanting to ask something and we ended up working it all out.”

 

            He smiles, though a hint of worry flashes in his eyes, “good, I’m glad. What did he want to ask?”

 

            “Nothing,” she realizes she might have snapped that answer, speaking to quickly. To exude indifference, she proceeds, “it’s no big deal really.”

 

            She obviously failed at her attempt because suddenly Fred is much closer to her, peering intensely at her with his blue eyes, “Tell me.”

 

            “No,” she scooches away, only to be followed again by the redhead.

 

            “Tell me”

 

            “I said no Fred!”

 

            “Why not? Come on pleeaassee? What did little Wonniekins want to know? I swear I won’t tell him you told me”

 

            Hermione stands up knowing that Fred will follow her. She wants to tell him that Ron though they were dating. She wants to gauge his reaction. But she also fears what he could say, not really sure what she would want to hear. Instead of turning her head, or changing the subject she looks the now standing Fred in the eye, “He wanted to know if you and I were dating.”

 

            And now he’s smiling, and for some reason Hermione feels like she’s missing some key piece of information, “I know.”

 

            She balks, “What do you mean you know?!”

 

            “He came over to my place and asked me that too, earlier this morning. Didn’t believe me when I said no. Even went on to prove why he thought we were dating, used evidence and everything. It’s the smartest I’ve ever seen Ron act. He still didn’t believe me by the time he left, so I assumed he went to go ask you. Didn’t think it’d be immediately though.”

 

            She is shocked, “evidence? What sort of evidence?”

 

            “The way we’re always together. How we go on movie dates. How you smile with me. And how I look at you. It was damn convincing.”

 

            “How you look at me?”

 

            “Yeah, like you’re my world. Like each time I see you it’s like I’m seeing you for the first time, full of wonder and awe at your intelligence and beauty.”

 

            Hermione is breathless now, unsure what to say, “He really said all that?”

 

            Fred takes a step closer, “Well I added a bit more, so that you’d understand.”

 

            “Understand what?”

 

            “That he was right”


	6. Have Someone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter

She is stunned.

 

           “He was right? Wait… so that means that you…” She isn’t quite sure wat to say. Her unfinished sentence hang in the air.

 

            He is nervous now. He hasn’t been this nervous since the battle. Though, he decides, that he doesn’t mind these sorts of nerves. He takes a step forwards and looks directly in her eyes. His voice is lower now, and each word is weighted with meaning. “What do you think it means?”

 

            “You like me. You may even love me” It’s not a question, she sees it now. There is fear in her voice, and apprehension.

 

            Fred takes another step forwards, they are almost touching now. “I do.”

 

            She can’t respond, “Oh”

 

            “Scared?” He asks. There is a glint of humor in his eyes, but she can sense his uneasiness.

 

            “Yes. You?” She realizes how close they are, she can count the freckles on his nose.

 

            “Terrified.” And he kisses her.

 

            His hands cup her face, his thumb, slowly making circles on her cheek. His kiss is quiet but firm. He’s tentative and nervous, unsure of her response. It’s a kiss that leaves her wanting more. But too soon, he pulls away, not too far though, just so that their foreheads touch. His eyes search hers, trying to sense her feelings. He wants Hermione to tell him to go on, he wants her to tell him that she feels the same, that his feelings aren’t wasted.

 

            But Hermione doesn’t want to talk.

 

            So, this time, she kisses him.

 

 Her kiss is desperate. She wants to show him all the things she cannot seem to say. She wants to say that their friendship is effectively ruined and will be replaced with an entirely new sort of relationship, instead she runs her hands through his hair. She wants to say that Ron was right about her too, but mentioning Ron at this moment feels wrong. So, she kisses Fred more.

 

            Their bodies are closer than they’ve ever been. She tries to memorize the way his lips feel on hers, the way his hands move to hold her body, the way their heartbeats collide. She tries to memorize the taste of his mouth. She feels hot and cold and shaky and dizzy, as if his hands are the only thing keeping her upright. His hands hold her delicately, as if he is afraid of breaking her. So, Hermione kisses him harder, she presses into him and in the moment when they catch their breaths, she whispers, “I’m not made of glass. You won’t break me.”

 

            He knows what she’s saying. He knows what she means. So, he holds on tighter, as if he’s afraid she’ll disappear any moment. Now, when they kiss again, they are both desperate. Desperate to feel something. Desperate for someone to hold. And Hermione feels so right in his arms.

 

            She doesn’t know how long they’ve been kissing for. The night could have come and gone for all she cares. But when his hands graze the hem of her shirt, they both stop.

 

            “We should stop.” His breath is hot and heavy and it hits her in its quietness.

 

            “Why?” She asks. She doesn’t want to stop.

 

            “Because,” he grabs her hands and whispers softly, “because I want to do this right. I don’t want to be a fleeting blip of passion that fades away after one moment.”

 

            “You won’t be.”

 

            “Still,” Fred continues, “I want to show you the world in my heart. I want to heal our broken souls together. I want to go to the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night with you and just be. I want show you that when I look at you I forget my pain. I don’t want to fade out of your life. And I don’t want to be a mistake.”

 

            “You’re not.”

 

            Yet Fred continues. His hand moves from holding hers and moves up her arms, hovering over her cursed scar, “I want to kiss your scars and let you see mine. I want to memorize your body.”

 

            “You can.”

 

            Fred goes on, “I’m not really good at dating. I’m not really good at being serious. I don’t want to make a mistake and fuck this up. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt myself. I just want to be with you. But shouldn’t we do it right? Like, go on a date? I could take you out to dinner. Give you a bouquet and maybe at the end of the night, you’d invite me in. I feel like we’re going about this backwards.”

 

            And then she laughs, because she would _never_ imagine that Fred Weasley of all people is uncertain of his dating ability, “Fred when have you ever been conventional? When have you ever done anything by the book?”

 

            “NEVER! But, you do things by the book.”

 

            “No I really don’t. I mean compared to you, maybe. But I’m a lot more unconventional than people might think. I blackmailed Rita Skeeter, I sent Umbridge into the forbidden forest to be attacked by centaurs, I spent my entire 3rd year time travelling almost every day. I quit school a year early, so technically you’ve had more schooling than me,” she looks at him and places her hands on his chest, “my point is that, I have lived my life far from ‘by the book’, I don’t see how our relationship needs to be any different.”

 

            Fred sighs, shaking his head in resignation. Then, in a moment he realizes something. “Wait, you said ‘our relationship’!”

 

            She smiles, “Well, you like me. I like you. We are grown adults that enjoy each other’s presence. I really like kissing you and when I’m with you, I feel normal again. That sounds like a relationship to me.”

 

            And finally, Fred gives in. His lips are on hers once more and he’s kissing her like he’s never kissed before. He gives into to her. It is both rough and soft, equally desperate and painfully slow. His hands roam everywhere, learning the curves of her body. Both their shirts come off as the heat between them rises.

 

            She is his ambrosia. And he is utterly intoxicated by her.

 

            Hermione has never felt such passion. She has never felt such an onslaught of feelings.

 

            _Is kissing supposed to always feel like this._

“I really like kissing you,” Hermione feels likes she sounds stupid, but her ability to say something smooth is gone.

 

            He smiles though, “I like kissing you too.” And he gives her a peck on the lips. He kisses her nose and he kisses each cheek.

 

            “But,” she bites her lip, “can we just talk now.”

 

            “Yes, we can talk.”

 

            Hermione leads him to her bedroom and the sit at the head of the bed. She leans into him and hears his heart attempt to control its beating. They sit like this for a minute, not speaking. His arms are wrapped around hers, and they contemplate their next words.

 

            Hermione wants to tell him _everything._ She can’t pick the right words. Doubts ease their way in, _what if this is moving too fast? What will Ron say? What if this is one big, sick joke? Fred is a prankster… No he wouldn’t do that. He’s not cruel._

“I can see you thinking.” His voice pulls her out of the pre-panic haze.

 

            “What do you mean? You can’t _see_ anyone think.”

 

            “I _can_. You are overthinking something. I can see it in your eyes.”

 

            Hermione doesn’t tell her him her brief fear. She knows it was formed out of a deep-rooted feeling of inadequacy. She trusts Fred so much now, and she knows him so well. He wouldn’t hurt her. Sometimes she forgets that love, that feelings don’t always hurt. She’s not quite used to the feeling of being wanted, “I didn’t mean to. I guess I’m just a little bit overwhelmed. I didn’t really expect this to happen.”

 

            “Me neither really.” He rests his chin on the top of her head, “I don’t think I really even realized how I felt about you until Ron came over and demanded to know if we were dating.”

 

            Hermione hums in response. Fred voice is still so quiet, “did you know you liked me?”

 

            She thinks about it, “No. Not really. I think it came upon me slowly. Like, now, when I think about it, I’ve had feelings for you for a while. They were just buried down. When you were in your coma and I would sleep in your room. I felt like you calmed me, even though you were asleep. Somehow, being there with you made me feel better. When you woke up, I thought that everything would go back to normal. But, I still felt different when I was around you. Everything around us was in chaos, and we were just learning how to live again in a world without Voldemort, and I didn’t really know what to do. I spent my entire adolescence with Harry and Ron, fighting in a war. Fighting for Harry’s life. So, after the battle was all over, none of us really knew what to do. We all freaked out in our own way. But being with you made me feel alive, less like a shell of a person. Less like a war hero. Less like a weapon. Ron was hardly the first person to ask me if there was something going on between us. But, I didn’t really allow myself to admit my feelings, because simply being near you was enough and I didn’t want to lose what we had.” She looks up at him and kisses him softly, “I’m really glad you kissed me.”

 

            He smiles, “I’m glad you didn’t slap me.”

 

            “I’m still really messed up. I’m still learning how to really be alive.”

 

            “Me too.” There is an understanding in their words. Each of them confirming a depressing truth of their real emotional state. But neither of them care when they are in each other’s arms.

 

            “But I feel less messed up when I’m with you.”

 

            He kisses her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END!!!
> 
> This is the first of a series I'm working on. This one obviously is Hermione-centric. But I'm working on a Harry on as well as a Ron one. They will all take place in the same universe and will still involve Fred/Hermione, but they will mainly focus on everyone else's post war life.


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